


A Court of Pain and Healing

by margotdavid



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Lucien Is An Amazing Friend, M/M, Minor Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Collecting Pets, Queen Nesta Archeron, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margotdavid/pseuds/margotdavid
Summary: After a terrible event, Nesta and Feyre come together after decades apart. But to understand how the sisters grew so apart, one must first look back to where it all started to fall apart. AKA: Nesta refusing to go to Illyria.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Nesta Archeron & Helion, Nesta Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Other(s), but not yet - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In which we find out what was the terrible event.
> 
> This chapter has been edited.

Prologue

Feyre couldn't stand to look at the white walls painted with flowery motifs. It broke something inside her to look at her work. A place she painted with a heart full of hope and purpose. She wanted to burn this place to the ground. Perhaps that way, the pain would lessen.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

She stared at the frame with the three portraits. Three sisters that never posed together for a painting in their long lives. So, it had to be three separate ones.

The one in the middle was of Elain. Whoever painted did a marvelous job in capturing her loveliness, from her sweet smile to the dimpled on her cheekbones. Her sister had chosen a dress of orange, with a neckline and belt decorated with yellow roses. She adorned her hair with a crown of the same flowers alternating with Illyrian ice roses.

Feyre wore a simple dress that opened at her waist to show her midnight blue pants. Not the most appropriate clothes for a portrait. Feyre had no idea why Elain picked them up and why this painting of all others of Feyre was the one she had in her bedroom.

Nesta, while not standing for an official painting, looked every inch a queen. In a white gown, her features were even more otherworldly. She was posing on a beach with a cliff behind her. What surprised Feyre was the hair. Braided in a simple hairstyle that reminded her of their last years as humans, Nesta's hair was the same golden-brown as her sisters. Nesta's hair hadn't been that shade in decades.

Not since she left.

That color had been the only thing that made her an Archeron, for Nesta always favored their mother in appearance. As they grew, it became apparent that Nesta was their mother come again.

But when she turned, all that grace and elegance amplified. Not even their mother could have dreamt that Nesta would turn into a nymph-like creature.

She put the frame onto the box and walked outside the bedroom.

Everywhere she walked, the emptiness surrounding Feyre haunted her. There were no flower vases or the smell of perfume, not even the sound of laughter she associated with the place.

In the living room, a ghost awaited her.

Nesta stood, a black pillar of power. It was a sharp contrast to the pastel tones of the room. Her entire body turned to the window, only her straightened back, and the hands she had tightened behind it appeared to Feyre. She couldn't see the color of her hair since Nesta covered it with a black veil. Her long fingers were unadorned.

Feyre twirled her wedding ring. It hurt her with how tightened it felt around her finger. 

The youngest Archeron stared at her sister's simple gown that still made her look regal. A queen even without her crown. _Nesta was meant for this world, much more than I ever was. How was I so blind that I couldn't see it?_ Feyre wanted to go back to her bed and cry. 

_How long has it been, Nesta? How long has it been since we last meet?_ Feyre wanted to ask. Years? Had it not been for Elain, they would be doing the counting by decades. Her heart tightened painfully, and Feyre let out a painful sigh.

_Two sisters._

Nesta didn't turn at the sound. Feyre wasn't that much of an idiot to believe Nesta wasn't aware of every movement inside the house. Even before Nesta entered, she probably already knew in what room Feyre was. 

She also knew she would need to be the first to speak, or they would stand in silence for the Mother knew how long. 

Feyre hated silence.

"Thank you for coming," Feyre wanted to hit herself for her poorly chosen words. 

Nesta turned to her.

Her face was unmoved, not even an eyebrow raised at Feyre's welcome words. With the front part of the veil resting on her shoulders, Feyre could see Nesta's unnaturally pale complexion. But, despite that sign of frailty, her eyes of silver were granite. 

Feyre would never get used to the way her powers reacted to Nesta's presence. The ageless beauty of High Fae paled in comparison to Nesta's aura of divinity. Her powers felt that.

Her sister's clothes were the opposite of what Feyre was used to seeing. The gown buttoned up all the way to her throat, the full sleeves gathered at the wrist. Despite the black cloth, Feyre could see - or more likely sense - the serpent shadow curling around her like a collar.

To most, the creature was undetectable. Feyre could sense _him_. A sleeping shadow, but dangerous all the same.

Not even in a day like today, Nesta left that monster in her castle.

Of course, that just made Feyre sputtered more words without thinking them through.

"I was going to send word to you. I didn't expect someone to have done it before. And so fast."

Feyre wondered if Nesta still had spies in her court. Very likely. 

"I knew it as it happened," Nesta's voice was deep and dark. Only decades of sisterhood made Feyre notice the slight wavering in it.

Grief.

Feyre wanted to scoff at her stupidity. Nesta would know. And get here as soon as it happened.

A part of Feyre wanted to remind Nesta that she was forbidden to set foot in Night Court's territory. Her presence here could be the cause for war. 

_Nesta's penalty couldn't be dead. How could it be when no one could kill Nesta?_

As consideration, Feyre hoped Nesta would not comment on Feyre's absent husband. If she wanted, her sister could very well celebrate it in the privacy of her rooms, away from Feyre.

_Two leaders._

"Did you speak with her? Before she passed to the other world?"

Nesta's mask slipped for a second, and the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. 

"Yes."

She wondered what Elain's last words to Nesta were. 

Feyre would never forget the last three words Elain spoke in her presence. They were such _Elain_ words.

 _Peace. Family. Love._

The painful silence dragged on.

One. Two. Three...

Eighty-one. Eighty-two. Eighty-three…

_Two grieving females._

A hundred and six. A hundred and seven. A hundred and eight.

 _With Elain gone, are we forever destined to meet in grief?_ Feyre wanted her sister back. But she didn't know how to get it. 

Without Elain, what did they have in common?

"Have you seen Lucien? Does he-" Feyre muffled.

"He came with me," Nesta interrupted her. There was a finality to her words.

It shouldn't surprise her, but it did. An old - _and so stupid_ \- feeling came over Feyre. 

Jealousy was a terrible beast.

"How is he?"

The reason she got to see Nesta over the years was because of Elain. Their sister insisted the two of them put aside everything that made it impossible for them to meet and have a meal on neutral grounds on Elain's birthday. It was the only gifted she asked - demanded - of them. 

But Lucien, Feyre hadn't seen in years. 

How could she, when Rhysand had forbidden him to enter their court?

But Feyre eyes were open now.

Lucien Vanserra, in all likelihood, was the most important male in Prynthia. And despite his connections to half the land, his loyalties were with Nesta

Once Mor had joked that Lucien was in bed with Nesta in more than one way. It had been a poorly made jab at the speculation on the nature of their relationship. That hadn't ended to this day.

Feyre heart stopped for a second. The jab was directed at Cassian. Back when they were still a family, and Lucien's position in Nesta's life was something everyone tried to avoid in front of the Illyrian.

All but Mor.

For many years, Feyre believed her friend was the principal creator of the less favorable rumors about Lucien and Nesta's partnership. Especially with how fast they spread. Feyre never dared to confront Mor about it. Much less deal with what could be her answer.

Feyre never believed the rumors.

Lucien and Nesta weren't lovers. They couldn't be since Lucien had been Elain's mate.

Still, she wondered if Nesta was going to lose more than one loved one. 

Despite her curiosity, Feyre knew she couldn't ask Nesta that. Her sister wouldn't answer her, either way. Not even if the question was made from a place of sympathy. 

Feyre and Nesta wouldn't be consoling one another.

_Two opposite commanders._

"He's pretending. They weren't together. Not as a couple. But it doesn't make it any less painful."

Feyre wanted to speak. She wanted to talk about their need to figure out what was to come. But as she tried to open her mouth, she felt it trembling and her eyes begging to water.

Unable to keep this – whatever she and Nesta were doing – she sat in one of the couches.

_I wish I could go back in time._

"Elain. She-" Feyre put her hands on her face. "Elain is death, Nesta. What am I going to do?"

When her first tear fell, and Feyre couldn't stop them pouring. She wanted to act strong in from of her eldest sister. To prove herself. Nesta wouldn't cry in front of Feyre. It would be a sign of weakness.

She left a hand on her shoulder. It was colder than ice and almost translucent. Dainty. That broke Feyre, and the soft tears became wailings that made her body trembled.

Feyre cried until her body could no longer produce any tear until she felt how tired bones.

But, when she looked up, for the first time in years, Feyre felt something had changed. 

Nesta's mask was gone. Her eyes glimmered with pain, and the dark circles underneath were horrifying to see. Her sharp features were gaunt-like. And the translucently she saw in her hand could be seen all over her face. Probably her body, if not covered from head to toe.

Nesta looked like she was fading away.

And what did it said about Feyre that the last time she saw Nesta in such a terrible state had been after that War? How many decades has it been? 

How much more hurt they caused one another afterward. 

Feyre lost Elain yesterday, but she lost Nesta years ago.

"We will morn Elain and prepare her funeral the way she wished to. And afterward, if you want, you're going to pick your daughter and leave this place. You can rest for as long as you want, and then we'll figure it out. If you want to return to your old home... Well, we can work a way to put your court back together." Her sister's voice was firm but not unkind.

"I can't -"

 _Leave_. Feyre couldn't leave, could she? She was the High Lady of the Night Court, wasn't she? What was left of it, at least? She had to protect her city. Rhys was missing, and most of the Courts wanted to capture him. She couldn't leave it all behind.

Nesta's eyes blinked. When she opened them, Feyre's sister had been replaced with the Queen of Hybern and Lady of the Mountains.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything. I'm not taking the Night Court's High Lady and daughter to my kingdom for political reasons. I am offering my living sister and my niece my protection. I am offering you Sanctuary."

Feyre couldn't. Besides, Nesta made that last word sound too heavy. Sanctuary must mean something more than just a resting place. Not for the first time, Feyre realized her lack of knowing the ways of other courts. 

_Nesta was right. I should have learned from other people other than Rhys._

Nesta must have seen something in Feyre's lost mind, for she continued. But the kind words were gone. So was her comforting touch as she laced her hands at her back.

"You once tried to offer me your version of advice. I ignore it because I knew it would do me no good, and perhaps in that day, I killed whatever dream you had for our lives. A few years ago, it was me who offered you the counseling. You chose to ignore it. You preferred to believe in your husband's colored narrative. But now you are a mother, Feyre. Motherhood changes one's priorities. You cannot hope to protect yourself and your daughter. Not now. _He lost._ And like all losers, your husband must deal with the consequences."

With that iron speech, Feyre knew her fear was the truth. 

Nesta blamed Rhysand for Elain's death. 

Feyre looked around the house that had been Elain's. The place she stayed when she came to visit Feyre.

Because of who she was Elain had diplomatic neutrality, it was a known fact in every court.

But Elain was murdered in the house she used to visit Feyre. A house in Feyre’s court.

"The Night Court you and that husband of yours imagined is gone. Forever."

And Nesta. Her sister. Her enemy. Her family. She didn't sound one bit sorry.


	2. Nesta I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we go back in time to see *the moment* that made ended Feyre and Nesta's relationship, and I hope gave you a list of questions that need answers ; )

Chapter 1

"My beloved," a seductive voice whispered in her ear.

She wanted to move away. The man's sleek figure didn't let her. Dark eyes, full of power and lust, reminded Nesta of the waters she hated so much. The water that drowned and killed her.

"Come to me, my powerful, beautiful, beloved Nesta."

The voice promised her power, control, desire. It promised everything she wanted and more.

It promised her the world.

It promised to make those who hurt her pay. 

It promised and promised and promised.

"No," her voice came in a broken whisper.

 _Weak. You are weak_.

"I will make you so strong, my beloved. I'll make you powerful. I'll make you a goddess," the unnatural beautiful man, made of dark desire, promised her. 

His hands, as soft as fog, traced her water-covered body. The darkest of waters hid her nakedness from his lustful gaze.

"Please, leave me alone," she begged. 

"You need me, my beloved. You're fading."

"Leave me." Came the plead from the weakest of creatures.

"Never," his dark voice vowed. "You and I are one and all. My Princess of Decay, Goddess of Death."

She shook in fear. "I am not those things."

_Stop torturing my dreams. Leave me be. I am nothing. Leave me. Please, I don't want your titles._

"Lady Death." He kissed her neck with a passion that awoke her body in ways she hadn't felt in months. "Kingslayer." He gave her another kiss. "Queen of Queen." 

She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. Nesta wanted to fight, but she was so tired of fighting.

_In the beginning_

_And at the end_

_There was Darkness_

_And nothing more_

Nesta awoke to the sound of waves and shaking.

Bed sheets trashed, the covers on the floor, and pillows ripped apart. Body covered in a cold sweat that Nesta couldn't feel. There were hints of blood in her nails, and she could see the scratched on her arms and legs. A mirror would show the other places with them, she knew.

The clock told her it was not yet six in the morning. 

"Are you ok?" A male voice spoke.

His brown eyes looked frightened. Nesta wanted to kick herself for allowing someone to see her like this. The nightmares of _him_ didn't use to happen when she had males in her bed. 

"You are bleeding." He approached her with careful steps and a gentle expression.

Nesta couldn't remember the name of the male she took to bed. He hadn't been very skilled, but he had been kind. And unlike most, more than willing to let her take control from the first move she made.

"I can get you some healing salve."

"Don't worry." She closed her eyes and focused on that _thing_ inside her.

"You're healing," he said in awe.

Nesta almost smiled. She wondered how old he was. He sounded younger than most of the males she bedded. 

"How did you do that?"

 _Goddess of Death. Lady Death._ The voice whispered in her mind.

"Leave." She commanded.

"What?" His eyes bulged.

"Leave me. And don't tell anyone." Whatever he saw in Nesta's expression, it worked, for he left the house.

He left his shirt behind.

She wanted to go after him, to pay back his kindness, but Nesta's body felt too weak to move. There was something in her skin that made Nesta want to flay it off.

Nesta looked at the white ceiling. 

She couldn't go on like this. She had to do something to wake up from the numbness she felt. 

_"Your sisters love you. I can't for the life of me understand why, but they do. If you can't be bothered to try for my happy little circle's sake, then at least try for them."_

It had hurt. Cassian's words. Like most emotions, pain wasn't something Nesta felt nowadays. But she felt it, then. Worse than when she used that knife in the bath to--

No!

Nesta wouldn't think of _that_. Never.

Rolling her body, Nesta opened the drawer and picked up the letter. The rolled parchment seal had broke previously, but Nesta kept the shimmering golden ribbon around it. She ignored the necklace next to it.

> _ Dear Nesta,  _
> 
> _ I write this letter in hopes of relieving some of your condition. I do not know what you know of me or my powers, so I will try to explain it: my mother's lineage allows me to sense people's auras, and centuries of practicing the old magics gave me an edge about other Fae's powers. Yours, I knew it to be unmatched in some ways. I sense something of what you were hiding the moment I met you.  _
> 
> _ I know you are not a Fae, and while I can imagine why you would wish to hide your powers, you should be made aware of the dangers of it. _
> 
> _ You can't keep them bottled up, or they exploded. We can both imagine the outcome.  _
> 
> _ I know what it's like to have burdens you cannot deal with alone. I offer you my help and open my library to you. I can help you find a way to control them.  _
> 
> _ There won't be a debt you have to pay, rest assured - I can see you worrying about that.  _
> 
> _ But I shall confess that a part of me wishes to take you as an apprentice. It's been many decades since I had one. _
> 
> _ For fear of some finding this letter, I won't say much more, but this: _
> 
> _ I, Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, offered Nesta Archeron Sanctuary in my Court. _
> 
> _ I hope this proves how serious I am. _
> 
> _ Well wished,  _
> 
> _ Helion. _

She had received the letter after Lord Helion's visit to the Night Court. To this day, Nesta still doesn't know why she didn't burn the letter. Or the necklace came with the letter.

It was a simple silver cord with an amethyst pendant. The small silver lights inside the stone showed that it was no simple ornament. Nesta read in a book that the amethyst crystal eased sadness and grief. It also helped with anger, anxiety, fear, and regret.

She never put it on.

_ Helion. _ Nesta remembered the stunning male. He had tried to flirt with her when they first met, and she would have ignored his letter had it not been for the memory of his eyes. In his amber eyes, Nesta saw intelligence and knowledge beyond measurable. He sure was better than any other High Lord she met.

Nesta got up and walked to her bathroom. The slightly cracked mirror showed her unnaturally pale, translucent even skin. Her face was gaunt. Her body that once boasted curves that turned heads was too-thin. Her haunted eyes had purple circles under them. Worse was the jadedness of it all. 

She closed her eyes and focused on that force she felt inside her and projected a imagine. A shot of adrenaline came over her. Afterward, the dizziness and the heaving breathing she was used to feeling came.

When she opened her eyes, the Nesta in the mirror still looked unhealthy, but not like she was fading away. Now, she only felt like a walking corpse. 

Her spine straightened. 

He was here.

Nesta stepped into the bedroom. As she noticed the hours, she blinked. Accessing her powers made her lose more and more minutes, but it was starting to scare her. 

It had been more than an hour since she walked into her bathroom. 

She got a shirt from the ground and walked to the door, fortifying her mind for what was to come.

As she left the bedroom, she heard the two knocks.

She unlatched her four locks and barely opened the door. 

"What do you want?" She faced the hulking Illyrian.

Cassian's eyes roamed her frame. Shock. Worry. Judgment. 

"It's seven in the morning," she hissed, noticing the way he stared at her face. "Come back later."

Cassian gave her a lazy grin that was fake and asked, "Rough night?"

"Come back in the afternoon," Nesta told him.

She tried to slam the door but failed. Nesta looked down to see the foot he shoved in. 

Why can't people leave her be? 

"Feyre wants you at the house."

Of course, what other reason would he have to force himself into her space? 

"Which one," Nesta said flatly, "She has three, after all."

"She's at the new one."

Nesta studied Cassian. He tried to hide it, but she could see something was making him uncomfortable.

"Why didn't she come to get me herself?"

"Because she is High Lady of the Night Court, and she's busy running the territory."

Nesta stopped herself from scoffing at his blatant lie. Feyre considered running a territory visiting shops, doing charity work, talking with people in the street, and opening a painting studio. Her husband spoke big of making Feyre is equal, but in the end, he turned her sister into a perfect consort.

Not that Nesta felt her sister's work was useless. It wasn't. A consort was supposed to balance her husband's iron fist policies with philanthropic work. 

Nesta had troubles with the fact that no one seemed to tell that to Feyre. 

Nesta tilted her head. Cassian needed to work on his lies.

"And my sister deemed that meeting her  _ right now _ was necessary?"

Nesta could already tell she wasn't going like this.

"She knew you'd likely need to clean yourself up and wanted you to get a head start. You're expected at eleven."

Nesta wanted to hit him at that moment. Feyre didn't send him to come now. No, he knew she had someone in her bed, so he came earlier to catch her in the act so he could judge her for bedding men that were not him.

_ Well, too bad for you, I've sent him away already. _

"Do I look like I need four hours to become presentable?"

Nesta felt the need to scratch her skin as he gazed at her body with lust. 

"You look like you could use a few big meals, a bath, and

some real clothes."

Nesta rolled her eyes and then looked down. The shirt she had put on was from that male. Of course. Everything was a measuring context with Cassian.

Mother was right. Men  _ are  _ all the same. 

"Eleven o'clock. Get washed, put some proper clothes on, and I'll bring you breakfast, myself."

She raised a brow.

"You think I can't smell that male in your bedroom? Did you send him off without clothes? Did he sneak out of the window?"

There were many things she wanted to say. 

_ Yes, I slept with males that aren't you. And I enjoyed it.  _

_ Like you aren't playing houses - or whatever - with Mor. _

_ You were the one that ran away first. _

Nesta said nothing.

I'll be back in an hour to see how things are proceeding."

Nesta stared unfeelingly at him. As if the tone he used on his soldiers would work on her. 

"Don't bother. I'll be there on time."

He pushed off the door, and Nesta froze as he opened his wings. His hulking side. Was he going to force himself inside? He could physically force her to do his beading. 

Nesta hated the fear she felt. 

Cassian made her feel small and powerless. 

At least the conflicted feeling wouldn't show off as fear.

She refused to show fear to Feyre's judging little family. 

"That's not what I was asked to do. I'm to see you from door to door."

Yes, because Nesta was a problem. 

She drank and fuck. But most importantly, Nesta disregarded their Court. They couldn't ignore  _ that _ , so Nesta needed a scolding.

"Go perch on a chimney."

"Do you want your tea with milk or lemon?"

She slammed the door in his face. 

Nesta almost laughed. Cassian spoke as if he knew her, but in reality, he didn't. Nesta never drank tea in the morning and was allergic to milk. 

.

.

Feyre was perched on the couch, joking with Cassian as they entered. She ignored her sister in favor of the other two people in the room. 

Amren was there, looking like nothing mattered to her. At times, Nesta hated her as much as Rhys. The brunette had seemed friendly to Nesta in the beginning. But, when Amren kept pushing to see Nesta's powers, and with that came the cold realization that she wanted something from Nesta.

Amren wanted to use Nesta as a weapon in their war. It had been clear, and when Nesta confronted her about it, Amren spoke like Nesta should be pleased about it. 

Everyone always wanted to use Nesta for something. But Amren made her feel stupid by allowing Nesta to think otherwise.

Never again.

" _ People will always want something from you. It is the way of the world, especially since you are a woman. And a beautiful woman. Men want one thing from a beautiful woman. _ " __

It had been one of the hard lessons had mother had taught Nesta. And her daughter had not understood for a long time, but in the end, that lesson from Lillian Archeron proved to be correct every time.

Nesta's pushed that aside and focused on the problem in the room: the lord of the Night's Court. 

While everyone dressed in leisure clothes, Rhys wore his lord clothes. It was a statement. But if he wanted to intimidate her, he wouldn't.

_ You can't scare someone who was nothing to lose. And you can't intimidate someone who doesn't fear you. _

Nesta kept her spine straight, her chin high, but she could sense something was wrong between them. She stared blankly at them, but her mind tried to access the necklace Helion gave her.

As she did it, Nesta realized something else the crystal represented. Protection.

_ "You don't need to fear this mere Fae, my beloved,"  _ the voice whispered in her mind,  _ "they can't do anything to you." _

Nesta ignored Armen's words. The female wanted to take a hit at her, but Nesta couldn't care less for the woman. 

_ "You want to teach her a lesson, my beloved. You should,"  _ the voice purred.

"So you made me come to  _ you  _ for a scolding?"

Feyre, who not even three years ago, used sex as escapism to her trauma. And her little court who fucked and drank as freely as they wished. 

They didn't realize their hypocrisy.

"No. It's not a scolding." 

When Feyre glanced at Rhys, Nesta realized it was  _ his  _ idea. Of course, it was. Feyre, at times, seemed unable to think separately from her mate.

If this was what mating looked like, she wanted nothing to do with it.

_ "Your mate abandons you, then judges you, and now throws you at his so-called brother. My beloved, you deserve better. Come to me." _

Nesta ignored the voice but had to fight to keep her gaze from turning to Cassian.

"Think of this as a … discussion."

"I don't see how my life is any of your concern or up for any sort of  discussion," Nesta bit out and shot to her feet.

" _ Sit down, _ " Rhys snarled.

Nesta felt anger. She didn't feel it since the battle, but this anger was like nothing she felt before. It was dark and consuming. For a heartbeat, she imagined Rhys bleeding and broken at her feet. 

_ "Yes,"  _ the voice purred.  _ "Show him your power, my beloved. Show him he is nothing compared to a goddess." _

Nesta was scared of how much she relished in what he was whispering to her, imagining doing just that. 

"You are going to sit. You are going to listen."

She let out a low laugh. "You're not my High Lord. You don't give me

orders."

He might call himself the most powerful High Lord in history, but Nesta didn't fear him. She never would. She gazed at him boldly and could see how that bothered him.

She almost enjoyed Feyre's reaction to her mate. 

Nesta showed a bit of a grin at Rhys as Feyre scolded him. His eyes darkened. 

_ Let's play, Rhysand. _

Nesta's anger was bringing her old self back. She wanted to push this so-called High Lord into showing his true colors. He had been judging her for months - since he met Feyre, most likely. 

Whatever Feyre wanted to do to "fix" Nesta probably wasn't enough for him. Nesta could see it. Rhysand wanted on her knees. 

That would never happen. 

Besides, he was an awful lord. Nesta hated incompetence.

What a pity Mor isn't here.

"You too," Feyre spat in Amren's

"Enough," Nesta spoke, all turned to her. She was in control, and neither of them could see it. "I'm growing tired of this. Say what you have to say in front of your little family, Feyre. It is no bother to me."

She could feel the darkness coming from Rhysand. Nesta almost smiled. 

Feyre kept trying to soften their talk, but Nesta wanted to see her finally admit why she dragged Nesta from her house.

"I want you out of Velaris," Feyre breathed.

Here it is. Finally, something Feyre meant.

It hurt more than Nesta would ever admit, but not even close to what Cassian had said to her. Those words he said to her made Nesta realized plenty of things.

Rhys's eyed her with cold pleasure. 

"And where," Nesta asked, her voice mercifully icy, "am I supposed to go?"

Feyre only looked to Cassian.

And for once, the Illyrian warrior wasn't grinning as he said, "You're coming with me to the Illyrian Mountains."

"No." Her voice was harsh. 

They probably sold it to Cassian and Feyre as recovery time. Give Nesta a sword, and everything will be fine. But she knew what Rhysand wanted. A weapon.

_ "They want to break you and mold you to their ways, my beloved. Just like the king. But you proved before what happens to those you try to force you into something. Do it again, my beloved."  _

"I won't go." She spat at Rhysand and ignored everyone else. 

"You will."

"Are you forcing me? It wouldn't be a first for you, I'm sure."

Nesta felt a thrill as the emotions in the room turned darker. Rhysand came over to her, using his towering figure and exposing his dark powers.

Something - someone sang in her mind. 

"The only way you're getting me into those mountains is by knocking me out. I won't go without a fight. So this might get a bit bloody."

Cassian's breath was so heavy, they probably heard it in the Continent. Amren's expression of boredom was betrayal by the unquiet eyes.

"Nesta," Feyre whispered in shock.

She ignored them and turned to the High Lord. The pleasure she got from his anger would scare her later. 

"Don't mess with me. You are nothing compared to me." His voice carried a dark threat that could scare anyone.

"Do you want to try your lie, High Lord?" She mocked the last words.

Suddenly she felt him trying to get into her mind. He almost succeeded, but Nesta's mind block protected her. 

That and  _ him _ .

_ "Mind abuse. I hate those with that power, my beloved! I would kill him for you." _

"Get out of my mind, or you'll regret it." She threatened.

His violet eyes flashed with shock, perhaps even before, before they darkened once more.

She felt Rhysand's second attack in her shield. The attack was much stronger the second time. Nesta used her powers, imagining a block in front of her mind. As she did it, the power inside her trembled. A monster wanted freedom from its chains. 

Someone called for her. But it wasn't the dark and seductive voice of before. It was still dark, but it calmed her. 

As Rhysand's mind intrusion continued, that voice scream in distress. It called to her, but Nesta couldn't understand what it was saying.

As Rhysand broke her shield, Nesta dragged him into a cold and obscure room. 

Nesta let him felt the anger consuming her. Anger that he caused. She wouldn't allow him to see anything else.

_ I want him out _ .

She projected an image of his head atop a spit like the humans used to do with captured Fae during the war.

Nesta felt something soft and liquid caressing her body and the seductive voice,

_ "Push him, my beloved. I'll guide you. One. Two. Three. Push." _

Nesta pushed him with all her strength.

The sound of Rhysand falling to his knees and holding his head would forever be in her mind.

"I warned you to stay out of my head." Nesta's voice was pure darkness. 

No one mored. 

Rhysand bit his lips, but Nesta could sense his pain.

Nesta took two slow steps until she was a breath away from him. Seeing the High Lord on his knees in front of her gave her too much pleasure.

End this, Nesta.

She stared at Feyre. Her sister was pale, shaking, with eyes filled with fear. Feyre believed Rhysand to be invisible. Seeing her eldest sister above her kneeling husband ... She could understand how terrified of Nesta she was.

But unlike Rhysand, Nesta took no pleasure from it.

"I'm not going to those mountains." Nesta felt that her voice was freezing the room. It was freezing the people inside, at least. "But don't worry Feyre, I'll be out of your territory by tomorrow."

Her sister, in her terror, seemed unable to register her words. 

Nesta turned to Amren. Her gaze was calculating, but there was fear in there as well. 

A lot of it. 

Amren, however, held her gaze. 

"You are a monster," Amren stated. 

"You are no longer are," Nesta replied with a cold smile. 

Feeling that her position was made clear and with exhaustion hitting her body, Nesta turned to the door. Cassian stood between her and freedom. His face was a mix of shock, fear, and pain. 

"Nes," he whispered in a defeated tone. "Please, come with me. The mountains will do you good. I can help you."

"I can train with you," she said with fake softness. 

His eyes softening _was_ real.

"I can even fuck you instead of all those males," Nesta killed that softness. "It bothers you. Doesn't it? I was untouched before, a virginal gift, but now I'm used goods." His eyes bulged. He took a step forward, but she raised her hand to stop him. "I once told you that you knew nothing about me. You still don't. And I don't know you."

"Nes-"

"I was the foolish one, I admit it. We shared a private confession that Feyre couldn't wait to spread to everyone she knew." She glared at her sister. Then she turned to Cassian's heart-breaking face. "I was ready to die for you, but that doesn't mean the feeling was mutual. After all, how could it be? I am unlovable."

His face broke, and with it is seemed that his body did as well. The hulking Illyrian nothing more than a mere body that a breeze would drop.

She passed by him without looking back.

However, as soon as she got to the door, something changed.

Nesta felt pain in her shoulder, and from a distance, she heard a scream. 

But all Nesta could see was darkness.

It was like being back in the Cauldron. The suffocating feeling, the pain. But it lacked one thing. The Cauldron made Nesta relieved every single painful memory in her life and amplified it by a thousand. It made her feel powerless, unimportant, abused. There was nothing like that in this darkness. 

Yet, like the waters of the Cauldron, Nesta still grabbed it with her hands.

Anger and pain fueled her darkness.

A sense of euphoria engulfed her.

_Yes! Yes! Yes!_

Nesta almost moaned in ecstasy.

"Nesta." A cry came from outside her darkness. Desperate. Frighten. "Please, you're going to kill him."

"Nesta." Another voice. Male. Pleading too. But this one was sad. Defeated. Broken. 

Nesta wanted to stop. Despite the darkness surrounding her, Nesta knew she was about to commit murder. 

But the anger, the pain, the powerlessness, it pushed her forward into it. 

Amidst all, Nesta remembered Helion's letter. _Helion's crystal._ With a hand, she looked for it. She held it to it, and it shattered into tiny pieces. 

Her vision cleared. 

What she saw in front of her would forever haunt her.

Rhysand was held in the air by the throat. By the force of Nesta's right hand. His blue-black hair was the grey going on white. His once tan complexion, perfect complexion, was pale and wrinkled. His fae beauty turned into an old crone. Every vein in his body was visible.

He looked like he was dying.

Because she was killing him with a simple touch.

Nesta released her hand from his throat, and he fell to the ground.

_ "I told you, my beloved."  _ The seductive voice was a mix of glee and lust.  _ "My Goddess of Death, my Princess of Decay, my Lady Death."  _

Nesta ran.

Unknown to her, she left a trail of her blood.

_I need to run. Leave this place._

_What have I done?_

_I am a monster._

She ran and ran and ran until a dark figure of dark fog appeared in front of her.

_ "Mother,"  _ The shaped thing said. It took her a second to realize it spoke inside her mind. But unlike Rhysand's attack, it felt calming and gentle.

It was the voice she couldn't understand. 

One day Nesta might understand how she knew in her bones who he was.

"Bryaxis." She whispered and gazed in awe as he turned in front of her eyes into a dragon-like creature.

He was pure darkness, and he called to her soul like nothing ever did. 

Except them. Cassian and _ him _ .

Somehow her entire being knew she could trust Bryaxis.

Nesta remembered a young girl- the oldest of three - reading tales of knights and dragons. A girl who dreamt of a dragon that would let her fly away.

Bryaxis bent down in front of her and smelled her.

_ "Blood. Mother's hurt." _

Nesta felt his anger. She placed her hand on her back and was shocked at what she found.

A dagger was thrust into Nesta's right shoulder. 

It was still there.

_ Rhysand.  _ He tried to stab her as she left and use that moment to use his powers over her. 

That was what triggered her powers. 

_ I pocked a High Lord's pride.  _

_ My sister's mate tried to kill me.  _

_ Or hurt me at least. _

_ "Kill?" _

Nesta pulled the dagger and winced at the pain. She let the thing fall onto the ground. 

"No. I need to leave this place."

_ "Mother, they are coming. Ride."  _

Something inside her told her to trust this creature of darkness and nightmares. To do just as he said. 

She climbed into Bryaxis's back and held firm. Dizziness hit her when he jumped into the sky. 

Up and up and up, he carried her. Her eyes became heavier. The pain no longer there, only exhaustion.

_ "Mother's rest. I'll take you to a safe place." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the hardest chapter I wrote in my entire life. 
> 
> Yesterday, it was about 2500 words. After I re-read it almost doubled.
> 
> I hope I did justice to Nesta's feelings of despair and feeling powerless. 
> 
> I also like to point out this is in her POV, her view of Rhysand is clouded - but let's be real not that much.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be updating my other Nesta fic, but this just popped into my mind today, and I had to write it down. I hope you all like it.


End file.
